


Do Unto You

by AiraKay



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Noble AU, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Repaying Debt, Sex Work, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 08:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15166310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AiraKay/pseuds/AiraKay
Summary: Caleb Widogast, Earl of the Zemni Fields, was just looking for a bookstore; Mollymauk Tealeaf, a way to pay off the debt owed by a man he couldn't remember. As their paths cross and cross again, they find more than either had bargained for.





	Do Unto You

Blue eyes flickered across simple wooden walls, hung with deep red curtains and gold candelabra. Music - a viol, his mind supplied - sung out from somewhere further in the building, a slow, sweet, distant melody. Incense hung like a light fog in the air, present and pleasantly spicy, without being so overbearing as to give those who walked in a blinding headache. Plush scarlet sofas, chaises, and chairs stood throughout the room, some with one - or more, even where it seemed more should not be possible - ostentatiously dressed occupant lounging atop them.  Nervous fingers tugged at the gray cravat at his neck, the worn cotton, carefully arranged to hide a few small holes, comforting. He should have worn silk, and the material had felt so wonderfully slippery-soft against his skin, but wearing anything that fine, for real, still felt wrong, unsettling like an itch deep under his skin. Besides, he’d only ruin it. The thought fluttered through, familiar, as he glanced from the paper in hand, address neatly inscribed across its surface, to the several pairs of intrigued eyes watching him hover in the doorway.

“This,” Caleb Widogast mumbled, “is not a bookshop.”

He’d thought the name of the establishment, the Moondrop’s Respite, had sounded a bit odd, but bookstores tended to draw the unusual, especially those that stocked the kind of tomes he hunted. Sometimes, they sold other items, too, which was why he hadn’t questioned Jester too thoroughly when she had handed over the address. Really, he ought to have known better than to trust her sweet smile and her sudden and fervent desire to give him directions when he had mentioned wanting to visit some local literature vendors during his visit to the Menagerie Coast. “Oh, I know, like, the _best_ place, Caleb, it’s all full of sofas and cushions and it smells _really_ great, and they definitely have books there, definitely.” It hadn’t even been a lie; Caleb could see a small shelf set aside for those that chose to partake. The titles he could recognize were most certainly of a bawdy bent, though, not the arcane sort he had been intent on.

He would really have to have a Talk with Jester about this, if he could manage to get the words out.

Another glance around and Caleb’s ears began to warm at the sheer number of faces turned in his direction. A tall, elegant woman approached, draped in red that faded to orange then yellow, the fabric studded with small sparkles, or maybe jewels, that glittered in the candlelight. The overall effect was that of a living flame, and Caleb flexed one hand reflexively, tapping out a pattern on his thigh and hunching his shoulders to counteract the urge to flinch back. “Can I help you?”

“Ah - no, sorry, I - bookstore. Going, now.” The words tumbled out, louder than necessary and - oh, _everyone_ had their eyes on him now, and his stomach churned, threatening to show all these fine people his dinner, and wouldn’t that be the perfect end to this misadventure.

The woman, looking him over, frowned, and Caleb just knew she noticed every ink stain on his sleeve and probably the few on his face, the frayed edges and worn-thin elbows of his coat, the simple riding boots splashed with mud and who knows what else, the bags under his eyes and tangles in his hair. She glanced uncertainly at the behemoth of a woman stationed by the door, a monochromatic figure standing guard. Though the establishment was in a fairly average part of the city, it was still _nice_ , for clientele of a certain sophistication. Such places tended to have standards. Certainly, whatever services they provided here, and Caleb could hazard a guess with a high probability of success, cost more than someone of his apparent social standing could afford.

“If you’re not here for any purpose, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” The large woman by the door shifted ever so slightly in his direction.

“Yes I think that would be best sorry to bother you -” Caleb turned on his heels and attempted to make his escape, reminding himself to _breathe_ , but found his path blocked by a riotous explosion of color in the approximate shape of a tiefling, leaning languidly against the corner of the stairs. Only a sudden backstep avoided collision, and Caleb paused for a minute to take in the raucous carnival that was this roadblock. Every color under the sun seemed present somewhere. The loose navy pants, slit up the outer leg all the way to his hips, had embroidery in beautiful pale blue and purple designs, and intricate gold along the waist. A scarlet robe draped off his shoulders, equally ornate and lined with the what looked to be a thousand silver crescent moons. It was almost too much, and Caleb let his gaze slide to the tiefling’s face for a moment, noting the scars raised along purple skin and the peacock tattoo climbing up the side of the tiefling’s face from somewhere around his hips. Other tattoos, flowers and a snake, curled around his right arm and shoulders. Chains, attached to jewels and coins and other baubles, dangled from his horns, feet, and mostly bare upper torso, clinking gently as their owner shifted his weight and stepped closer to Caleb, making eye contact. Caleb glanced away from the red gaze immediately, face nearly matching their ruby hue, to the much more comforting pattern on the carpet, but he could still feel it as he tried to duck around the newcomer. Heels - gods, how could the tiefling walk in them, they were so much higher than the usual boots one saw; Caleb couldn’t imagine the dexterity and practice one would need, and perhaps he should turn away from that train of thought right now.

“Never,” drawled the tiefling, “have I seen someone so in need of a good time. Upstairs with me, if you please. Ornna -” The next words were directed at the woman in the fire dress.

“You’re booked, Molly.” Molly waved his hand airly at her and she shrugged with an eye roll that somehow matched her elegance. “It’s your funeral.” The lavender tiefling grinned, tail swishing jauntily behind him, and put a hand to Caleb’s back, not flinching a bit as the other jumped. He pushed Caleb gently up the stairs, ignoring the quietly mumbled protests. The light pressure directed him to a room at the end of the landing, neat and tidy but just as sumptuously decorated as its owner. The tiefling - Molly? - nudged him to sit on the bed, and then the very warm touch vanished. The door closed with an echoing click in the quiet chamber.

The silence felt like a physical pressure, a stone on Caleb’s shoulders. “I am sure you are quite lovely and - skilled - at what you do but really I was looking for a bookstore -”

“I know.” The tiefling retreated to the other side of the room. Startled, Caleb jerked his head back up to stare. “Figured you could use a minute to yourself. Not,” and there was that wicked smile again, lilting voice dropping to a purr as he continued, “that I would be opposed to giving you company, if you’re willing and have the coin.”

“Oh.” Caleb blinked once, twice, and ducked his head. “That is… much appreciated. I think,” he admitted, trying to relax his shoulders. He got a wink in return.

“Figured it might be. I’ve never seen anyone so panicked to find themselves in a brothel, I don’t think.” The chuckle that followed wasn’t mean. “You said something about books?”

“I was under the impression that your fine establishment was a purveyor of specialty books, not special favors,” Caleb answered, a little sharper than intended. His companion did not seem to take offense, though, laughing again. It was a good laugh, too, hearty and free.

“Sounds like someone pulled a fast one on you there.” The other man sauntered forward, tail swaying, to drape himself across one of the plush purple chairs in the corner. The posture brought attention to the fine lithe body under the layers of ostentatious fabric, and Caleb looked away before he could think on that any further, settling himself tentatively on the smallest corner of the large bed he could manage without falling off.

“That does seem to be the case.” He fidgeted with a stray thread on his cuff, worrying at the rip. He should have expected this, should have double checked - it was his own fault for trusting Jester too easily ( _she must not really like him, after all_ ). Of course this would happen. She meant well ( _didn’t she?)_ , he was sure, but this was not how he wanted to spend his day.

“So, how’re you going to get ‘em back? Frog in the bed? Rumors of boils in normally unseen locations?”

Caleb found himself giving the smallest huff of amusement and a smaller hint of a smile. “Normally, I would go to Jester for such antics, but she’s the one who instigated this.”

“Jester?” the tiefling cocked his head, lips curling in a curious, mischievous grin.

“A… friend. She’s very good at causing this sort of chaos. Her intent was good, but she just doesn’t understand…” Caleb shrugs, finally tugging the thread loose and focusing on tying it into small knots.

“Not quite your thing? That’s fair.” The tiefling rolled onto his stomach, resting his head on his hand and raising an eyebrow at him. “So what will you do?”

Caleb sighed. “Talk to her. And… talk to our friends Nott and Fjord. Perhaps they will have an idea. After all, she should certainly have a taste of her own medicine, ja?”

“Well then!” The tiefling clapped his hands. “That was the easiest revenge I’ve ever helped plan!”

“Do you help plan revenge schemes often?” Caleb asked, as seriously as he could manage.

“Oh all the time! Before I worked here, you see, I was an elite assassin in the Capital. The nobles paid me very well to solve their problems for them, and I had a special talent for seduction then murder. Unfortunately, I killed the emperor’s favorite nephew, so I had to go into hiding, and what better way to do it?” He spread his arms to gesture around him.

Caleb eyed him and then gave the barest hint of a smile. “I think, perhaps, you are full of bullshit.”

The tiefling grinned. “Perhaps, perhaps not! You should see the prank wars we get up to around here, though. How’re you feeling?”

Caleb took a moment before answering. “Better. Thank you.”

His host hopped to his feet. “Excellent. Then I’m afraid I’ll have to escort you out now - big important guest coming tonight, can’t keep him waiting.” Caleb nodded and rose to join him, allowing himself to be escorted back to the entryway. The tiefling’s hand still felt warm through his many layers; Caleb found himself noticing its absence more than expected when it was withdrawn at the base of the stairs.

“I - thank you, for your concern, and help, ehm…” Caleb trailed off, cursing himself as he realized he hadn’t actually asked for the other’s name; he should have done that first.

“Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molly to my friends, and I hope you’re one of those after this.” Molly grinned, and Caleb found his mouth curling up at the corners yet again. “If you need an assistant in your dastardly revenge plots, you know where to find me.” Ruby eyes took on a wicked glint, perusing Caleb’s form in a way that made him flush red. “You’re welcome here anytime.” And then the tiefling chuckled, and the moment was broken. He patted Caleb on the back, a little lower than perhaps was usual but not low enough to be uncomfortable. “Now, off with you! Go find your books.”

Caleb didn’t know if he really had a good response, so he nodded, stumbling forward and turning back halfway through the door. “Good day, Mr. Mollymauk.”

“Now, wait -” Caleb froze; what now? “Aren’t you going to tell me your name? Since we’re friends now.” There was that mischievous smile again. “I’d like to know what I should call you, when I imagine you later on.”

“Oh. Ehm. I’m Caleb. Widogast. Caleb Widogast.” And Caleb fled, red to his ears, entirely missing the way Molly’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

* * *

Molly stared at the retreating brown back, leaning an elbow on the stairwell and his chin on his hand. A smile still played at his lips, torn somewhere between amusement and surprise.

“Molly! Stop lollygagging and go make sure you’re ready, the Earl of Zemni could arrive at any time,” Ornna hissed lowly, covering the lower half of her face with a fan to disguise her scowl.

“Here and gone already, Ornna dear.” Molly nodded towards Caleb’s rapidly disappearing form, just before the deceptively shabby nobleman was swallowed by the midday crowd. “It seems like that blue darling pulled a fast one on him, and us.”

Ornna’s eyes widened. “ _That’s_ him?” She frowned contemplatively. “I’d wondered why she’d insisted in paying all up front. That makes much more sense. But, really, Molly, you’re not just making a joke? He was so…”

“Raggedy?”

“Dirty?” Mona chimed in from one couch.

“Smelly?” Yuli tacked on.

“He doesn’t _smell_ ,” Molly objected. “Well, not badly.” Caleb had the faint scent of old books clinging to him like a wrap, with a hint of fresh earth and just a smidgen of something charred. “And anyways, he’s a noble; I think he can get away with looking how he likes.”

Yasha stepped a little away from the door, mismatched eyes still keeping a sharp watch as she chimed in. “He seemed nice. And confused.”

Mona crossed her arms with a faint pout. “Shame we only saw the back of him; I wanted to know what all the rumors and fuss was about.”

Molly tilted his head curiously, leaning forward, his tail flicking in excitement. “Oh, do you have some gossip to share with the class? Do tell.”

Ornna rolled her eyes, but Mona and Yuli smirked at each other and pushed in closer. “Well, of course you wouldn’t know, Molly, this happened about five years back, but the previous Earl was getting quite on in years.”

“The old man didn’t have any heirs, though, and hadn’t named one from his family. They were all set to feud. Then, one day, out of the blue -”

“Out of the blue, Earl Raimond, he announces that he _did_ have a child, a grown one, to inherit the title -”

“Caleb Widogast,” Molly jumped in eagerly.

“Yes, now hush, let us tell it,” Yuli grumped. “ _Anyways_ , his family was _so_ unhappy about this, and they complained for a while, but then they just - stopped.”

“And when the old Earl died, your smelly boy inherited the estates and everything uncontested.” Mona snorted. “Despite no one knowing to this day where he came from. _I_ think he was probably born to some noble lady already married.”

“Don’t be stupid, we’d have heard of him before this if that was true,” Yuli objected. “Maybe the Earl kept things quiet for another reason. Maybe he married someone who died tragically young, and he raised his child alone while mourning them.”

“Or maybe he’s not actually a person at all. Maybe the previous Earl accidentally summoned him from the Feywilds or somewhere. It wouldn’t be surprising, if even _half_ the rumors about the Earldom of the Zemni Fields are true.” Wrinkling her nose, Mona looked at Molly. “You be careful, if you see him again. Or don’t, maybe he’ll disappear you into another plane of existence.”

“We should be so lucky,” Yuli rolled her eyes.

“As fascinating as all this is, the day ticks on,” Ornna finally interjected. “And baseless gossip about our clients isn’t for the main hall. Shoo, all of you.”

Molly waved lazily and retreated up the stairs to retrieve his cards; he could do readings until another client came along, seeing as he doubted Caleb - Earl Widogast, he supposed he should say - would be making a return. The poor man had scrambled out of here as fast as he was allowed, and more’s the pity. He was definitely easy on the eyes, and for all Mona and Yuli’s talk, he didn’t seem _that_ shady.

Okay, that was a lie. Caleb had seemed very shifty, standing in the doorway all hunched up like a turtle, big vibrant blue eyes taking in every little detail they saw. But that was _interesting_ , ever so much, and all the delicious mystery around him even more so. What a shame, that he hadn’t decided to stick around longer; Molly remained positive that they could have had some fun. There was no use dwelling on what wasn’t, though. With an easy shrug, Molly began humming to himself under his breath, tapping his feet so they jingled along with the song. Perhaps their paths would cross again.

Somewhere, some part of him, quietly hoped they would.

* * *

Caleb sat at his desk amid many crumpled balls of paper, tapping the tip of a pen against the wood before groaning and laying facedown on the surface. Mollymauk had managed, with his parting joke, to thoroughly ruin Caleb’s concentration for the rest of the day. Though he’d eventually found a bookstore, most of its contents were novels and poetry; asking if they kept any other works in stock for discerning collectors only led him to a veritable treasure trove of smut, which had not been the goal of today’s outing. And since returning to his temporary lodgings, he’d not been able to focus, distracted as he tried to determine the best way to thank the tiefling for being so considerate.

“Caleb? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” A panicked voice interrupted his mental floundering, and Caleb lifted his head to give Nott what he hoped was a reassuring smile. The goblin peeked over the edge of the desk at him, brow furrowed in concern. She had a bow tied neatly in her hair, he noticed, a rich gold; that was Jester’s handiwork, for sure. Neither he nor his little friend had learned to make them so evenly, yet.

“Yes, Nott, I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.” She grimaced. “Did you not find what you needed, at the shops? Was the one Jester sent you as good as she said?”

Caleb groaned and thunked his head on the desk again. “No, it was one of her jokes.” Forcing himself upright, he pursed his lips and whistled for Frumpkin. The cat dashed to his rightful throne in Caleb’s lap in an instant, purring and headbutting Caleb’s hands demandingly. “But… someone kind, helped me out.” He sighed. “Nott, what is a good thank you gift for someone? Something small.”

She thought about it for a minute, tapping her finger to her lip. “Gold? Or - a bauble or trinket, like buttons or something? Those are all things I like, but I guess other people like them too, or they wouldn’t be upset when I take them.”

“That is true, ja.”

“Or you could just give them something you like. You’re really smart, I’m sure your gift will be good.”

“Something I like… hm.” Caleb mulled that over for a long moment and then nodded. He scribbled a quick note on a fresh sheet of  paper before folding it up, dripping a dollop of wax on it, and pressing his signet ring down to seal it. He stared at the crest as it finished cooling. _You are the Earl of the Zemni Fields, now. You must act like it._ Tucking the letter into the brown-wrapped parcels, he nodded to himself. “Nott, can you take this to the Moondrop’s Respite, and deliver it to Mollymauk Tealeaf? I’d ask the courier service, but I don’t want it to vanish in the mail.” She grinned at the unspoken _I trust you_ and nodded, grabbing the packages and darting off as fast as her short legs would allow.

He would say thank you, as was proper, and that would be the end of it. He wouldn’t be going back to the Moondrop’s Respite, after all, so what were the odds he would see the lavender tiefling ever again?

* * *

The package, delivered by a small figure Molly was not convinced was a hafling despite her screeched insistences, came a surprise. He’d been sent lavish gifts before, of course, by various wealthy folks who had enjoyed their time together. He didn’t recognize the seal on the letter, though. Curious, he opened it, eyes dropping immediately to the signature. A sly smile spread across his face. “Well, Caleb Widogast, you are full of surprises,” he murmured, returning to the top to read the rather messy scrawl from the beginning.

_Dear Mr. Mollymauk Tealeaf,_

_I wished to convey to you once again my sincerest thanks for your assistance this morning. I realize that your time is valuable, and you could have been utilizing that spent with me for your work. I hope I did not cause you to miss any opportunities because you were looking after me. I’ve enclosed what I hope is a sufficient amount to make up for any lost wages, as well as two thank-you gifts. One is for addition to the collection downstairs. The other is for you, if you are so inclined. I hope you enjoy it; I certainly did._

_Most sincerely,_

_Caleb Widogast_

_Earl of the Zemni Fields_

Molly’s eyebrows climbed further up the more he read, chuckling a little at the stiff language. He tore into the packages hastily, and laughed again at the two books he found there. Setting them carefully aside, he hefted the little pouch into his hands. It was surprisingly heavy, for fifteen minutes of being a halfway decent person. Knowing nobles and their pride, Molly hadn’t expected much of anything at all, but Caleb had caught him off guard. Peeking inside, his eyes widened at the amount of coin inside, all gold, glittering in the dim light. On top of what the blue tiefling girl - Jester, Caleb had called her - had paid them, he would make a not insignificant dent in the debt to _his_ name.

Chewing on his lip, Molly pondered a bit. He liked working at the brothel well enough, it was fun and everyone else who worked there was family at this point, but it was slow going towards paying off what he owed. Caleb was pretty and looked like he could use a pleasurable time, and apparently had money to spare, at least for those who did him a good turn. All Molly had to do was turn on the charm; it couldn’t be that hard, not with the way the man was blushing at Molly’s come-ons earlier. But how to make sure their paths crossed? After a pause, Molly grinned; the answer was simple enough. Trotting downstairs and around to the back offices, he knocked on Gustav’s door.

“Gustav, my dear? Can you be sure to put me on the performance roster for the next party the Earl of Zemni is likely to attend?”

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt for this AU was from asg_creations; it has since spawned into this. The plan is for this fic to have multiple chapters; however, there unfortunately isn't going to be any sort of regular update schedule because other life obligations.


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